


Starlit Coffee

by captainhurricane



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, M/M, Viren Tries His Best, average dad viren, not meet-cute but meet-mysterious, that obligatory coffeeshop au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2019-11-19 08:15:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18133211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainhurricane/pseuds/captainhurricane
Summary: Viren has a good old regular life as a single father of two and the advisor and mage to his best friend Harrow.Then a certain elf moves into the neighbourhood.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> thhis is completely unbetaed so expect a bit of a mess
> 
> inspired by this [gorgeous fanart](https://twitter.com/virensgrindr/status/1103100709933744128)
> 
> also listen to [these](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3gVqJgEvgow&list=PLgAy0wTWpkxglOi-gkMNu1iy-HVv7TEbX)

For Viren, magic has always come first. He delved into his studies at four years old and now, at a spry age of thirty-eight, he is a master at his work, he has published dozens of articles on creative solutions for various problems caused by magic and caused by human hand. Viren knows his own practice of dark magic is not particularly favoured by the modern day magical society, but he is a man that stands behind his own deeds and his own words. He only aims to make the world better. He only wishes to be there for his beloved best friend Harrow Katolis and his adoring wife Sarai. 

 

That is all. 

 

Except. 

 

An ugly, ferocious divorce has left Viren cat-less and wifeless and with two spunky kids to take care of. He loves his children, he truly does, but they are a handful. Soren has just turned nine and loves pulling pranks more than doing his homework. Claudia has just turned five and is learning how to read, spending her days with her little button nose buried in mountains of books. Soren is too rowdy and Claudia too quiet, except when they get together.

 

And Viren is tired. 

 

He loves them, he truly does. At least this is better than when they were babies and Viren was a new father trying to juggle his work, kids and an exhausted wife. Everything else but magic had always felt like Viren was just being pulled by his string by a puppet master, like he had just done these things because that is what a man of his societal position should do. Marry his high school sweetheart even though the flame between them hadn’t truly existed for years. Get two perfect, beautiful children. Get a nice house and a mortgage. Get two cars. 

 

Magic had been and still is the only thing that makes Viren breathe easier, whether it is the sizzling of blue magic or the entrancing whispers of dark magic. 

 

He had been studying and working so urgently as advisor for Harrow and his sprawling medicine company, that it had taken the combined forces of both Harrow and Sarai, and Sarai’s stern sister Amaya, to force Viren to stay home long enough to eat and sleep properly and not use magic constantly. He had already missed both Soren and Claudia’s first words, their first steps, had dumped them too often on babysitters. 

 

He isn’t content being a stay at home dad. 

 

He isn’t content, general. 

 

He still braids Claudia’s hair and teaches her how to make pancakes. He plays with Soren and endures Soren’s shouts of how he wants to be a knight to protect princes and princesses. Viren works from home, works on his doctorate, endures Harrow’s gentle teasing and most of all, completely ignores the questions of if he’s ready to date again. 

*

 

Viren isn’t. 

 

*

 

He isn’t scared of it, no way. His wife leaving him had left him with less time and more stress in his hands and dating just doesn’t fit. Not to mention the part that he hasn’t told anyone about, not even Harrow. 

 

Harrow might know though, considering him and Viren had a little week-long fling back in high school. 

 

Viren isn’t… he isn’t gay. He isn’t. He just - he just lives in his work, lives in the magic rolling through him. Romance is someone else’s job. Not for prematurely greying men like him, father of two, with a little bit of a belly, callouses on his fingers. 

 

*

*

 

It takes Viren a week to realize he has a new neighbour in his area. He’s not an outside person, Harrow and Sarai are the ones who go hiking and herb-gathering. Viren doesn’t do walks, doesn’t have a pet to take out. If he needs fresh air, he sits in his porch and writes or plays with his newest magical gadget or just watches over Soren trying to conquer the apple tree in the backyard. 

 

It’s not Viren’s fault that the starlit little coffee shop doesn’t catch his eye instantly. When he takes his kids to school, they go in the other direction entirely. When Viren goes to work, it’s in other direction. 

 

He only comes to know of the Starlit Coffee when he ends up trapped in a conversation with his across the street neighbour, the eccentric miss Lujanne. 

 

Now, Viren isn’t a particularly big fan of elves. He finds most elves untrustworthy, arrogant or just shady enough that he doesn’t want to befriend any. He’s also aware that this is an outlook born out of his own negative emotions. He’s tried to tell miss Lujanne before that she should find other friends and not bother him, but the woman talks his ear off about this and that, sometimes shifting topics three times in the same sentence. This time, in the middle of braiding her long, white hair, she suddenly says: 

 

“You know, you are a man who appreciates a good cup of coffee, are you not, mister Viren?” 

 

Viren blinks, still unused to miss Lujanne’s eccentricities. She certainly isn’t the worst of her kind, but her illusions have always made Viren uncomfortable. And he has always told his kids to not go near her. 

 

“W-what? Yes, I certainly do appreciate a good cup of coffee. How so?” 

 

Miss Lujanne smiles sweetly. “If you walk that way under a kilometer, you will come across Starlit Coffee. You can’t miss it. I think it will do you good.” Her green eyes seem to sparkle. 

 

Viren squirms. This is what is frustrating about elves. They’re so annoyingly long-lived, practically immortal and they always look like they know things more than him, even when they don’t. “I- I see. Thank you for the recommendation.”

 

Miss Lujanne hums and then pats Viren on the cheek. “You take good care of yourself, mister Viren. And those kids of yours. Don’t stray into dark paths not meant for humans, yes?” She puts her hands behind her back and then turns to go. “You wouldn’t be interested in getting some tea for your headaches?”

 

Viren blinks. Blinks. How the hell - Viren’s headaches are a tedious, regular thing. Harrow fusses over him for them but Viren always waves it off with a painkiller and meditation. 

“Uh,” is all he can say before practically running off the scene entirely. 

 

Damned all-seeing elves. 

 

*

 

Viren remembers the odd conversation two hours later, as he’s left alone in the quiet mess of his house. Claudia and Soren have been sent off to Harrow and Sarai for a playdate and sleepover with their children. The evening is still so young and Viren does love a good cappuccino and a good bite of an espresso. He’ll try anything once.

 

Or at least used to, when he wasn’t getting so rapidly older and his hair didn’t make him look fifty. 

 

“It’s just a café,” he murmurs, pacing in his living room. It wouldn’t hurt to take one evening off, right? Viren is ahead in his work. He doesn’t have any particular hobbies. Exhaustion lingers in his bones, the after effects of magic use. Being a human, after all, Viren has had to learn magic from scratch. 

 

One more reason to dislike elves. Those bastards get all of this for free. 

 

Viren groans. “Fine, coffee.” He grabs his wallet and keys and heads out, into the warm spring evening. 

Starlit Coffee appears suddenly as he walks, one blink of an eye and there it is, a dimly lit café with just one lamp highlighting the subtly sparkling (sparkling?) logo hanging over the ornate door. 

 

Viren’s skin crawls. He may not be born with magic but he knows magic when he feels it. 

 

He still pushes the door open and enters. Instantly he hears music: a sublime, melancholy note, coming from an unseen radio. The lighting of the Starlit Coffee is dim, more like sitting under the night sky, full of shining stars. 

 

Viren spots two elves, gleaming blue eyes and long white hair, talking in low voices. Viren stays away from them, as well as from the two sleepy humans, dozing off in their little round tables. The candles set in each table stay eerily still and give out a blue light. The counter has five sleek bar stools, all empty. Viren seats himself on one of them and clears his throat. 

 

He looks around once more. Everything, the coffee machine behind the counter, the menu hanging over it, seems to give off a slight glow. 

 

Viren clears his throat again. 

 

“Hello?” 

 

Something, like a melody, brushes Viren’s cheek. He blinks. The curtain separating the backroom and the rest of the café parts to reveal -  

 

All air in Viren’s lungs runs out, gets stuck on its way out and makes him promptly choke. 

 

The elf, with his low-cut shirt and starlit skin, smiles. “Ahh,” he says. He slides closer, moving so utterly silently. “So good to hear the sound of a new voice.” That voice drips honey into Viren’s ears, those dark eyes look at him and see all. 

 

Viren realizes he’s sweating. 

 

The elf leans on the counter and - oh God, oh no, what is this - Viren can see right down the elf’s shirt. 

“Ughggh,” Viren says. I’d like a cappuccino, he means to say. 

The elf smirks. He lays his hands on the counter, his fingers so long, gorgeous, the shade of his skin the entrancing blue of the night sky. “How may I serve you?” 

 

Viren blushes. He clears his throat, unnecessarily loud. “I - uh  - “ His treacherous brain invites colourful imagery of just how this gorgeous elf could serve him. 

 

The elf lifts one perfect, pale eyebrow. One of those perfect, elegant fingers slide to Viren and brush his knuckles. “Yes?” Gods above, how does a voice sound like melted chocolate? 

“C-coffee please, no, I mean, a latte, c-chai latte, please.” Viren’s heart races. His hands are clammy. He brings them to his lap and rubs, shifts, tries to avoid the knife-sharp gaze of those intriguing eyes. The elf’s magic is blue and warm as it wraps around him, brushes his cheek so gently. 

“Coming right up, dear guest,” the elf says, each word carefully measured. 

 

Then he turns around. 

 

Viren’s heart drops as he takes in the sight of those skimpy shorts, the slender thighs, the skin going from midnight sky to a dusk. The stars glitter on the elf’s skin. 

 

Viren squirms, uncomfortably hot. “What’s your … name?” He bites his tongue when the elf peeks over his shoulder and makes him blush. 

“You may call me Aaravos, dear,” Aaravos says, the three little diamonds under each eye glimmering, illuminating the darkness of Aaravos’ eyes. 

 

Viren is trapped, a squirming little bug in a spider’s web. His cheeks burn. “Viren,” he mumbles. “I live just.. Over there.” He waves vaguely in the right direction. 

 

Aaravos seems to make his drink with swift hands as he places it in front of Viren. “The first one is on the house, Viren,” he purrs. “Now… if you live close by, how come you have not come earlier?” Aaravos leans so close once more, his shirt revealing entirely too much. The stars continue to glimmer and wink at Viren, inviting him to look closer, to reach out and touch. 

 

If they reach under Aaravos’ clothes too.

 

Viren scratches his chin. “Uh.” 

 

Aaravos watches him, still with a slight smile. He is magnificent, too ethereal to look at. He isn’t like any of the elves Viren has met over his life: Aaravos’ eyes are so dark, his skin sparkles like a starry sky, his horns curls in ways none of the other elves’ horns do. 

 

Spotting what’s unmistakably a nipple piercing sends Viren’s social graces short-circuiting. Good lord. How long has it been since he did anything with another person? Remembering that he tends to dislike elves is hard under Aaravos’ inquisitive gaze. 

 

Viren isn’t gay, dammit. 

 

“I just - “ he manages. Even looks Aaravos in the eye. “I’m busy. I have two kids.” 

 

“Hmmmm,” says Aaravos, closes his eyes and smiles. “I do hope you visit me again.” As he straightens to his impressive full height, clearly taller than Viren himself, Viren hears that musical note again. Like someone gently playing the piano, just out of sight. 

 

Viren’s throat is very dry. If he stares a little too much, then Aaravos doesn’t mind. 

“I- I might.” Viren takes a sip of his chai latte. The spice melts on his tongue. Viren sighs, pleased. 

 

Aaravos glides away from him then with a slight smile and Viren misses his own mouth with his cup, getting his eyes on the elf’s ass. Viren splutters and coughs, spilling hot drops on his fingers. He curses and lays the cup down. 

 

“Are you hurt?” 

 

“Fuck!” Viren jolts, turning to  - oh Gods - Aaravos, who has silently slid right next to him, towering over him with ease. Aaravos’ eyes are impossible to read, even when his mouth has formed a mysterious little smile. 

“Y-yes, quite. I’m quite alright,” Viren says and clears his throat. “The drink is fine.” 

 

Aaravos reaches, of all things, for his shoulder and squeezes. “It is not often I meet a human with such deep rooted interest in the ways of my people, Viren,” the elf purrs. “Do come again.” 

 

Viren’s throat is impossibly dry. Yet he feels like he’s sweating buckets. “I - uh - I will make sure to do so.” 

 

“Good,” says Aaravos and glides from him, sparkling under his starlit ceiling like the elves of days long gone, way before technology, way before humans became arrogant enough to think themselves superior. 

 

Viren feels oddly young, looking at Aaravos. 

 

Viren leaves the café then, deep in thought, cheeks still burning. The music from earlier fades from his ears, but somehow Viren thinks he might just hear it again if he focused hard enough. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because Viren doesn't know what's good for him, he goes back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbetaed we die like women 
> 
> i had to because i miss viravos
> 
> henlo i have also drawn [viravos](https://twitter.com/allodole/status/1110521139569311744) but not for this fic. .. yet.

Somehow, Viren finds his way back to the magical coffee shop again, a mere two days later. Mostly the reason for that is the fact that Viren can’t stop thinking about the elf with the startouched skin. Also because Harrow is a sharp-eyed ass and Viren has never been able to say no. 

 

On that particular day, lunch hour stretches seemingly into infinity and Viren finds his thoughts astray. Harrow squints at Viren after Viren had pushed around the steak on his plate for the fifteenth time instead of eating it.

“Not to your taste anymore, I presume?” Harrow asks, mirth dancing in his eyes. He’s pulled back his hair into its usual bun, drawing attention to the charming streaks of grey in the dark brown. Harrow is, has always been and will always be, distractingly handsome and annoyingly sharp. “Or something else?” 

 

Viren flinches. “Uh, no, no. It’s good.” To his horror, his cheeks feel warm. 

“What is it, my friend?” Harrow tilts his head, lowering his own utensils. He always has a way of looking at people like this: like Harrow knows them, sees through them and loves them for who they are. He’s always been like this, ever since he was a boy. No wonder a younger Viren couldn’t hold back on hooking up with him. 

 

Viren scratches his cheek and straightens in his chair. He smiles, strained. “Merely distracted. Don’t worry about it.”

 

“Hmmm.” 

 

Viren looks away. “Don’t. Don’t look at me like that.” 

 

Harrow laughs, warm like honey. “Like what? Really, what is troubling you? Did something happen?” 

 

More like someone. Viren squirms. Aaravos’ voice dances in his ears. “Not… quite.” 

 

“Hmmmm?” 

 

Viren looks. 

 

Harrow leans across the table, cheek in his hands. “Now that is an expression I have not seen in your face for years. My friend, did you meet someone?” 

 

Viren grimaces and bites the bullet. “Yes. N-not like that! I’m not - “ gay. Not into elves. Not into men. Not into men with sparkly skin and deep, gorgeous voices. Definitely not. Oh by all the Gods, he is fucking blushing. “Not like that. A-an elf set up a coffee shop a few blocks from my house and I happened upon it on a walk.” 

 

“Hmm,” hums Harrow again. He’s still smiling. “Now that is interesting.” He continues to eat like Viren acting like this was an every day occurrence.

 

It is most certainly not. “What do you mean interesting? I am merely - I am just - it wasn’t, isn’t like that!” Viren remembers with startling clarity that Aaravos has both of his nipples pierced. Both. Viren’s utensils clatter as he drops them. 

 

The corner of Harrow’s mouth twitches. “Hmm, I am certain. Now, it’s not unusual for elves to prefer to stick around their own kind or set up shop around us. But this elf must be an unusual sort.” 

 

Viren clears his throat. Twice. As loudly as possible. “Y-yes. Actually. I would have taken him for a Moonshadow, except his skin - “ glitters like starlight, hairless, probably silky smooth to the touch. To Viren’s deeper horror, his cock stirs. Down, boy. Don’t start being eager now. “H-his skin is full of stars. I have never seen anyone like him.” 

 

Harrow, that bastard, keeps on smiling, eyes shining warmly like talking about handsome elves was perfectly normal. “Now, I realize elves tend to be extraordinarily beautiful - “ 

 

“I wouldn’t know!” Viren exclaims and savagely stabs the sad remnants of his steak. 

 

Harrow, the fucking bastard, snorts. “They are and you know it.” His stupid dimple makes Viren unnecessarily irritated. “There is nothing wrong with finding one attractive, my friend. They are older than us and created from a different form of magic than us. It took us centuries to learn how to peacefully co-exist and find romance within each other.” 

 

“I-I’m not - “ Viren finds his tongue oddly sticking to the back of his throat. “He’s just… strange-looking. Don’t look too into it.” 

 

“Fine, fine.” Harrow sips his large tea and stares at Viren warmly. “It’s like something is alive within you once more, my friend. A light that was extinguished long ago. Do tell me more about this elf. Out of friendly interest.”

 

Viren squints at his friend. Harrow smiles back. The silence stretches. Viren knows that the blush on his face has spread to his entire face. 

 

Don’t say nipple piercings. Don’t mention the elf’s nipples in any way. “He called himself  Aaravos.” Aaravos is beyond words. Viren likes to think he is good with words, especially since words are an intrinsic part of his own magic, but Aaravos? Describing him is like trying to describe the passage of time. The laws of the universe. Viren clears his throat again. “He is very tall. His e-eyes are black, the irises were a strange colour I can’t name. He looks somewhat like a Moonshadow elf except for his eyes. And the skin, of course. He could have been wearing a glamour, but I don’t think so. The, uh, coffee shop is clearly full of wild magic that I can’t quite decipher.” Viren trails off. 

 

Harrow is leaning against his hands again. “I like anyone who can make you glow,” Harrow says gently. 

 

“I- I do not glow!” Viren huffs. “I- I had a good drink and he bid me good night since it was, well, quite late. I need to get back to work.” 

 

“Hmmm,” says Harrow. 

 

He is a menace. Viren should have never told him anything. 

 

So it is like this: Viren leaves work earlier than usual, claiming he can finish up at home. Harrow raises two curious eyebrows at him and Viren murmurs a little spell, dunking Harrow’s fifth tea mug of the day to his lap. While Harrow splutters, Viren makes his escape. He still has some time left before getting Claudia from daycare and Soren from school, so he figures might as well go see the object of his restlessness. 

 

He drives past his home, still dressed in the stuffy suit of today and parks somewhere close to the coffee shop. While the sun is still up, the lights of the shop glow less, but Viren still spots it instantly. It is there, just like he remembers: the logo above the door, the winking stars in the large windows, faint shapes of people behind them. 

 

Viren steels himself. He’ll just get a nice cup of coffee and leave. That’s all. He’ll see that Aaravos wasn’t really all that and Viren can go on with his day, unbothered by everything and anything. He rolls up his sleeves, tosses his tie to the passenger’s seat and locks the doors. He has to come back to the car twice: once to toss away his suit jacket, second time for his wallet. 

 

An unseen bell clings above the door. A melancholic piano whispers mystery, somewhere in the background. Viren licks his lips. He takes a quick glance around the shop, spots a gaggle of Moonshadow elves, a couple of good old regular humans, possibly on a date and Lujanne, who waves cheerfully at him. Viren offers a stiff smile and quickly  turns to the counter. 

 

To his extreme disappointment, Aaravos isn’t there. The scent of coffee and ancient magic lingers the strongest around the counter so Viren takes a seat. He pops another button open. By the Gods but he is sweating bullets. 

“Um,” he says, to the curtain separating the backroom. 

 

It is swept aside by a glittering hand and Viren’s stomach drops. He tugs another button open and straightens. He is a businessman and a mage, he can do this. He’s done romance before. Not that he would romance Aaravos, not at all. 

 

“Oh!” Says Aaravos, because it’s him, of course it’s him, arriving with a slow smirk and the widening of dark eyes. His shirt is ridiculously translucent, made seemingly out of thin air more than fabric. He has thin rings on his nipples, a thin silver chain connecting them. He floats closer, settles a pair of distracting, gorgeous hands on the counter. “Viren, was it not? How may I serve you today?” 

 

Viren wants to shove his fist into his mouth and moan. 

 

Aaravos has a voice that wraps around Viren’s throat and squeezes, fills his ears with promises of deep, dark connections. Whispers honey and melted dark chocolate into Viren’s waiting tongue. Viren squirms. “J-just here for a coffee,” he manages to stutter. Is it the elf’s magic then? What else could it be that Viren can’t stay still? But when Viren opens his mouth to ask, to accuse, Aaravos looks at him and winks. Viren’s cock stirs. 

 

“What sort?” Aaravos leans over the counter. He isn’t wearing any other jewellery but those piercings. He doesn’t need to. 

 

Viren’s throat is as dry as a desert. “J-just black.” 

 

Aaravos hums and turns around to fetch him a cup. “May I add a little something to your coffee? Just a little love from yours truly.” 

 

Viren’s brain helpfully offers him imagery of what exactly that entails. The part of Viren that still remains in control of his senses, makes him open his mouth: “And what is that?” 

 

Nobody else could make pouring coffee into a cup look graceful. Somehow Aaravos does it, glimmering harder than the sun. “I wouldn’t put you under a spell, sweet Viren,” Aaravos murmurs and puts away the coffee pot, one slender hand still wrapped around the mug. He lifts the other one over the mug and murmurs, a mere few words in a language that Viren can’t decipher: Aaravos’ eyes and the little marks on his cheeks glow. The coffee mug lets out a puff of pale purple smoke, but when it clears, it looks just like regular black coffee.

 

Their hands brush when Viren receives his coffee. Viren’s fingers twitch. His treacherous cock is half-hard. 

 

“Taste it,” Aaravos purrs. 

 

Viren’s cheeks burn and he lifts the cup to his lips. It is coffee, after all, hot and comforting as ever. Viren lowers the mug. The coffee seems to twinkle like the stars. Viren’s heart calms down. 

“Good.” 

 

Aaravos smiles then, a little dimple appearing to his right cheek. “I am glad. It will merely keep you warmer and calmer for a little while longer.” He licks his lips. “A little free extra for my favourite customer.” He winks. 

 

Viren burns, from head to toe. He drinks his coffee. “This is only my second time,” he murmurs and tries to ignore the embarrassing flash of happiness at those words. 

 

Aaravos’ chuckle rumbles pleasantly. He hums. “Yet you will come here again, will you not?” He turns once more to rummage around the huge coffee machine. He’s wearing those absurdly tiny shorts once more, giving Viren heart palpitations. 

 

“You elves,” Viren mutters. “Think you know it all, huh?” It doesn’t come out as sharp as he hoped. He meets Aaravos’ eyes again and tries desperately to hate the fact that Aaravos knows more than him.

 

“I can’t read your mind, dear Viren,” Aaravos begins and once more leans over the counter, that enticing chest on full display. A black star pulses in the middle of his chest, like a black hole, sucking Viren in. “But I can read humans rather well, I think. I have spent a long time with your kind, after all.” He’s still smiling, tracing a little circle on the counter. 

 

Viren follows his fingers, rather helplessly. “Y-you have?” 

 

“Mmmm,” hums Aaravos and reaches, brushes his beautiful fingers over Viren’s knuckles, tight around the now empty mug. Even without seeing it, Viren can practically feel the power whispering and hissing under Aaravos’ starlit skin. It used to scare Viren, way before he had gained some sense, to know that he shares the world with these otherworldly, almost immortal beings. That if any elf wanted, they could enslave humans. 

 

But elves mostly wish to live in peace, as tired of warring and conflict as humans are. 

 

Viren’s brain feels a little like mush. He licks his lips. “You’re - “ No words can accurately describe Aaravos. All the usual adjectives are inadequate. “Magic,” he finishes, blushing furiously. Viren covers his face with his hands and groans. 

 

Aaravos chuckles. “All elves are.” He gently pries Viren’s hands off his face and gives them a squeeze. Aaravos’ eyes seem to contain the entire infinity of existence. He straightens to his impressive full height, placing his hands behind his back. “But I appreciate the compliment.” 

 

Viren’s hands are cold. “I’m not gay, you know,” he blurts out. He slams his hand against his face. “I- I - I mean I’m. By the Gods, I cannot make a bigger embarrassment out of myself. I’m going to go, how much do I - “ 

 

He’s merely blinked and there Aaravos is, right next to him, on his side of the counter. The fact that Viren has to look up to meet his eyes is supremely embarrassing. 

 

Aaravos smirks. He lifts his hands to cup Viren’s face, stays still long enough for Viren to leave if he wanted to. Yet Viren’s feet are rooted to the spot. 

 

“Cute little mage,” Aaravos murmurs and kisses him soundly on the lips.

 

Viren freezes. 

 

Aaravos pulls back and puts a folded paper into Viren’s pocket. “You will know where to find me if you wish to know more about my magic, cute Viren.” 

 

Viren lifts his hand to his lips, eyes wide. “I - Uh - “ 

 

Aaravos winks once more and floats away from him, walking soundlessly on sandals Viren refuses to find adorable. 

 

Viren slaps a five dollar bill on the counter and escapes, dazed, into the afternoon sun. He is so fucked. 

 


End file.
